Seville Snapshots: Summer Nights at Plaza del Salvador

There was already a chill in the air this morning. I dragged the blanket from the end of the bed up to my chin, falling comfortably into the dreamy-morning doze again after a packed weekend.

Saturday was another one of those perfect sevillano days – my morning café con leche stretched into a stroll around the shops became a pre-lunch beer followed by tapas and copas and ending the night at Carlos Kiss, 17 hours after I left my house. Unwilling to let go of the summer time and its long, sunny days, it seemed like the entire city took to the streets.

As the song says, el sol duerme in Triana, y nace en Santa Cruz, and the salmon-colored church of San Salvador acts as Seville’s solar clock. According to the time of day, the temple is lit in a different color, but none as lovely as the setting sun over Triana. Since the facade faces west, it catches the last bit of sunshine every day.

On this last warm weekend before Autumn hits, I brought a scarf and cardigan, but didn’t need it midday as we toasted to the end of summer in Salvador and a day with no rain. Soon, the rain will hit, my ganas to be in the street will fade, and we’ll stop making gazpacho every other day. But for one afternoon, the streets were ours.

Practical Advice for Attending Spain’s Messiest Festival, la Tomatina

If I could live on one food for the rest of my days, I would choose the tomato (or maybe ice cream…just not tomato ice cream). Like Bubba Gump can eat shrimp in every which way, I’m a huge lover of the perfect fruit/vegetable/I don’t even care and easily eat them daily.

Then, say you, what happens when my friend convinces me to hop a flight to Valencia to attend the Tomatina, a tomato chucking festival and one of Spain’s most well-known fêtes?

You say tomato, I say HELL YEAH!

A Brief History of La Tomatina

Buñol, a small village just a half hour’s drive from Valencia, has been practically half-asleep for its history. In the mid 1940s, however, a group of youngsters wanting to demonstrate during the town’s festivals grabbed a bunch of tomatoes from a local frutería and began throwing them. The following year, they did the same. Since the early 1950s, the town hall has allowed revelers to chuck tomatoes (grown in Extremadura and unsuitable for eating) on the last Wednesday of August.

The Tomatina is now considered a Festival of Touristic Interest – so much so that the town decided to limit the entrances this year, allowing just 20,000 tickets to be sold to help pay for operating costs, including clean-up and security. About 5,000 of these were reserved for the residents of Buñol.

Getting to Buñol

The town of Buñol is located about 40km inland from the region’s capital of Valencia, cozied up to a mountain. Served by the regional RENFE commuter trains on the C-3 line, you can arrive to Buñol’s train station (if you can call it that) in 45 minutes. The station is located at what locals call ‘Buñol de Arriba,’ or the part of the pueblo on the hill, and there are plenty of places to buy souvenirs, leave your bag at a local’s house in exchange for a few bucks, and grab a beer or sandwich.

In the end, we decided to take a tour bus, which promised round-trip transportation and safe-keeping of our belongings. Though Kelly and I made an effort to speak the bus driver to get an idea of just how safe the bus would be in the middle of a festival of drunk guiris, we watched the bus pull out 20 minutes before the assigned return time, and we were forced to wait 90 minutes while it went to Valencia and came back for us. We had decided to take our bags with a change of clothes and snacks with us and store them at a local’s house, thankfully, or we would have been cold and stinky for hours. The organization was terrible and not worth the 35€ we paid for the entrance, transportation and luggage storage. If we did it again, we’d take the cercanías train.

Keep in mind that you can’t just show up to the Tomatina after this year – revelers are required to pay a 10€ entrance fee, and only 15,000 tickets are allocated for visitors. While there was outcry that the town hall of Buñol has privatized the festival without debate, I personally thought this was the best way to make the party accessible and enjoyable.

The Clothing and Gear

Rule of Thumb: everything you wear to the Tomatina will be covered in tomato gunk and stink, so be prepared to part with it once the tomato slinging is done. I threw everything away but my swimsuit!

Kelly and I made a run to Decathlon for a plain white cotton T, elastic biking shorts, a swim cap and goggles. You’ll see people in costumes, in plastic rain coats, in swimsuits and the like. We also bought disposable waterproof cameras, a small wallet for our IDs and health insurance cards and paper money, which we put into plastic bags.

I was surprised to see the number of people with GoPros. Having gotten mine for the Camino and then unpacking it for sake of weight, I wish I would have had it on me. Word on the street is that you can get relatively cheap cases for your DSLR or point-and-shoot, so consider it if you want better pictures than this:

Without fail, you should bring a change of clothes. Most townspeople near the center of the village will let you use their hoses for a minimal fee, but wearing wet clothes in damp weather won’t do you any favors. I brought a simple dress and a pair of flip-flops for the after party that rages on all afternoon, as well as a bottle of water and a sandwich. Food and drink is available in Buñol, and for cheaper than the Feria de Sevilla!

The logistics of La Tomatina

There are two parts to the city of Buñol: la de arriba (upper Buñol) and la de abajo (lower Buñol). Kelly and I got a call from our friend Gatis just as we pulled into the parking lot. Scoping out the party, we assumed we were near the entrance, so we told him we’d meet him at the gates in 10minutes, after we dropped off our bags.

Turns out, the village is a lot longer than we thought, and it took us far longer to get there!

When you sign up for the Tomatina, you’ll be given a wristband that you must show to access Plaza del Pueblo, where the action takes place. You then have to walk about 500m downhill towards the castle, passing food stands and bars, before arriving to two of four access gates. Show your wristband, but not before going to the bathroom – there is NOWHERE to pee once you’re in Buñol de Abajo.

Shortly before 11am, one of the townspeople participates in the palo de jabón. Climbing up a wooden pole slicked with soap, the trucks can officially pass through once the pueblerino has reached the top and hoisted the ham leg, which sits at the very top, over his head. Five trucks carrying tons and tons of tomatoes will pass through once a siren has been sounded. Participants understand that they cannot throw anything but tomatoes (which you should squeeze first to avoid injury), and only between the sirens signifying the beginning and end of the event, which only lasts one hour.

Those who live in the city center board up their houses and drape plastic sheets over their facades, though they’re quick to douse you with water after you’re finished. Call them campeones – they’ll hit you with water first.

The majority of the after party from what we could see is held in the part of the town uphill. There was music, beer and sausages. Had I not been so cold and smelly, it would have been my happy place.

The Experience

I can’t say that experiencing La Tomatina was ever on my Spain bucketlist (and neither is San Fermines, so don’t ask if I’ll ever go to the Running of the Bulls). But when a week with nothing to do, a cheap place ticket and an eager friend suggested going, I figured this would be my one and only chance to do so. Am I glad I did it? Most definitely, but I’m not planning on signing up for it again.

That said, it was a lot of fun. Being crunched up between total strangers, mashing tomatoes in their hair and putting it down the backs of their shirts, swimming afterwards in what was essentially an enormous pool of salmorejo, was serious fun. Belting out Spanish fight songs, squashing the fruit so as not to hurt anyone when I pelted him with it. The water fights, the after party, the townspeople who so graciously gave us their gardens and their hoses to use (Luisa, I’m looking at you, and we owe you a bottle of your beloved fino). I even found the downpour just before 11am to be hilariously good fun.

Have you ever been to the Tomatina, or are you interested in going? What’s your favorite festival in Spain – have car, will rock out – y’all know me!

Technicolor Córdoba: The Colorful Little Sister City

Córdoba is the kind of city that seems to hold secrets, whisperings under a lock and key that mirrors the one guarding the enormous mosque. Narrow callejas open into plazas stacked high with clay pots and perky flowers, the scent of olive oil from fryers heavy in the air. I’ve traveled to the city a mere hour’s train ride away from Seville half a dozen times, and while it’s gotten under my skin, I don’t think I’ve discovered the city’s heart.

The Caliphate City is vibrant, full of color, and delicious, from the heavier andalú accent in which the cordobeses serve you your caña or toast, to the glare of the sunshine off of the Guadalquivir that flows down river to my adopted town and out to the Atlantic. Seville and Granada get all of the love when it comes to Andalusian cities of renombre, but Códoba’s quiet presence make it a city that has become a secret favorite of mine.

On my latest visit in early March, the colors of the city against the whitewashed buildings that make up the historic center, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, popped out. Muted reds, mustard yellows and the clear, blue sky of my most memorable days in Andalusia blend together to create a laid-back capital with history por un tubo.

Reds // Rojito // horseshoe arches. creamy salmorejo. street art.

yellows // amarillo // views of the mezquita bell tower. ancient city walls. the cathedral from the roman bridge.

blue // azules // azulejo tiles. flowerpots on calleja de las flores. a pop of purple on a backstreet.

Have you ever been to Cordoba? Has a city ever tried to keep its secrets from you?

Seville Snapshots: Reflection of the San Fernando Statue of Plaza Nueva

I hastily jumped out of bed, cursing myself for forgetting to set my second alarm. I’d made early morning plans with Katie which included a hot coffee on a cold day and a bit of shopping for Feria dresses (her) and accessories (me). I pulled on dirty jeans, pulished a post and ran full speed out the door, hating to be late for our 9:30 a.m. breakfast date.

In the biting cold of an Andalusian winter morning, I raced towards the city center, dodging a bit of traffic on a long weekend where most where probably still in bed. I arrived and parked my bike right at 9:30 on the dot and had Plaza Nueva to myself. A pilgrim on his way to Santiago ambled slowly on, and I wished him Buen Camino, eager to start my own Camino in August.

I never quite understood why the streets in the city center get washed overnight, though I’d assume it’s from careless sevillanos who let their dogs crap all over the place without thinking to clean it up. Whatever the reason, the last bit of water that hadn’t been evaporated by the penetrating sun cast an eerie glimpse of Rey San Fernando on the marble ground of the Plaza.

Have photos of Seville or Spain to share? I gladly accept them and run them as part of my weekly photo feature! Send me an email to sunshineandsiestas @ gmail.com, or upload to my Facebook page.

Seville Snapshots: Laid Back at Puerta Jerez

As an adopted Sevillana, I have my haunts: from La Grande’s red awning to the little corner of Las Golondrinas, tucked beneath the squares, within earshot of Pepe who shouts, Niiiiiiñaaaa, tu champiiii!  And despite tracing and retracing my steps all over Sevilla, they’re places I can’t tire of. Puerta Jerez is another, an old city plaza that’s usually my gateway into the city center. Apart from its beauty, it’s lively and romantic.

Alexis of Never Leave Here writes:

Though I was only in Sevilla for a couple of days, I already felt like I got a sense for the lifestyle there. I live in Madrid now and life can be hectic sometimes with people rushing around ready to get down to business. I was impressed by Sevilla’s vibe: laid back and joyful.

I spent over an hour here behind the Fuente de la Puerta de Jerez as the sun went down, just watching families take an ice cream break (even in December!) and street musicians set up, play and leave as the sun started to set. In the last few months of living in Spain, I’ve been to quite a few cities and Sevilla is the only one I really want to get back to. I loved the pace of life there – not to mention the food and music were among the best I’ve experienced yet in the country. I can’t wait to return!

Have photos of Seville or Spain to share? I gladly accept them! Send me an email to sunshineandsiestas @ gmail.com, or upload to my Facebook page.

Alexis lives in Madrid where she teaches English to pay the bills and writes about travel, food, photography and her love for all things vintage on her blog, Never Leave Here. 

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Seville Snapshot: Afternoons in the Plazita

Can I confess I love that my breath still sometimes gets caught in my throat in Sevilla, even five years after moving here? Or that even seeing the Giralda’s soaring spire makes me stop and admire?

One place I really love in a Spanish community is the plaza. It’s more than a landmark – it’s always a meeting place, a catwalk, a social center. I remember when Plaza Nueva was just a big roundabout. Thanks the the ex-mayor giving it a pedestrian makeover, the square just in front of the town hall, has become a hotbed for celebrations, rallies, artisan markets and tour groups.

I just prefer it when the kids are chasing one another on their scooters and the abuelitas are just feeding the pigeons, waiting.

What are some of your favorite plazas in Seville, or Spain? 

Got a photo of Seville or Southern Spain to share? I’d love to see it! Send me the photo to sunshineandsiestas [at] gmail [dot] come. Look for a new photos every lunes.

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